Nothing is certain. A caesura is a pause. It usually signifies something important or that a change is taking place. Our lives can be measured by the caesuras that occur. How we handle ourselves in these times defines who we are. I'm trying my best to handle things and this blog is my documentation.

April 29, 2010

T-Minus Ten and Counting.

So.

The movers come on Monday and Tuesday to pack everything up and send it off to its respective locations.

We fly on Saturday, May 8th. We wanted to fly on the 7th, but since we had to wait until, oh, Tuesday, to make the reservations, there were no seats on those flights. As is, we are booked in three aisle seats, one in front of the other. Someone is going to have a grand time sitting next to Miss Thing.

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Had Miss Thing's two year appointment a little early. She is now suddenly in the 80th percentile for height. No wonder the clothes are just barely still fitting.

Oh, and she's been getting the hiccups the last couple of days, and usually this means she is growing. If so, she will have to go naked in Russia. The locals will just love us.

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I've been looking for underpants. I know. You really wanted to know that. I've been to Victoria's Secret...three times, JCPenney, Macy's and Target. Let's all guess where I found the best-fitting pair? And by best-fitting I mean covers my tush without sending me back to middle school and the land of wedgies. That's right, people: Target. 13 pair for about $13. Let's hope they don't fall apart in the wash.

Oh, wait. That is what the $5/pair Victoria's Secret ones do lately. So even if they do, I've still saved.

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I wasn't ever the recipient (or giver, for that matter) of wedgies in middle-school. Was that mostly a boy thing?

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Miss Thing has some hair. Shocking, I know. Not long enough for anything except the non-use of baby brushes. They just don't work any more. Therefore, we have been using a comb.

She says: "Cone."

Tonight after her bath (in the kitchen sink because as long as she fits in it, I am using it. Gotta save the back, people.) I was cutting her finger- and toe-nails, an activity she looks forward to about as much as I look forward to the dentist, and I had the "cone" on the bed with us. She distracted herself from the awfulness with it: "Ice-cream cone...Where did it go?...I get it!...I've got you, ice-cream cone!"

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This post is brought to you by the letters M and N. One day we'll learn the difference.